Badlands

I.
Either will or inspiration to write has come and gone: I swear I’m really trying though nothing’s coming up. Or rather, I should be the one coming up for air.
Nihilism will inexorably exact its toll from its pursuers, I suppose.

So I have pretty much decided to take the week off from posting here, from writing at all.
It’s July, after all, when the orchestra is just about ready to start playing: Everything happens in the second half-time and I’m stuck in a job that sucks to hell and pays far less than it should, and I’m stuck in a dead-end relationship where long-run probably stands for something idiotic like, driving to the supermarket around the corner, and I’m stuck holding back and probably drowning myself in self-pity for no reason other than sheer momentum.


II.
Whenever I’m down or kind of blue there’s this line from song that often comes to my head- it’s the chorus line to the Black Grapes’ Kelly’s Heroes.
It goes like this:

Don’t talk to me about heroes
Most of these men sing like surfs
Jesus was a black man
No! Jesus was Batman!
Nononono! That was Bruce Wayne

…Actually I’m a bit unsure whether it’s sing like surfs (which I got off Google) or sink like subs, which is what I’ve always sung. But the bit about Batman always kills me.


III.
Anyhow.
Back next week & all charged up, hopefully.